Love Has Been All Too Rare In Your Life
by SoulsNeverDie
Summary: During their portal jumping, Emma and Mary-Margaret separate. Instead of being sent back to Storybrooke Emma has been sent back to the time when Hook was still Killian Jones. And much to her dismay, she will have no further choice but to seek alliance with him. If he is her only option of getting back to her time before time runs out, so be it. (Not good with summaries. :P)
1. Chapter 1

_~*~Chapter 1.~*~_

_Night_ had fallen quickly in this type of land. _Th__e enchanted forest_.

Emma let out a foggy breath and stuffed the compass deep into her side pocket. _Smooth Emma...Real smooth..._She thought and furrowed her brows as she looked around. _And to think I'd never see this place again...Before the curse that is.._

That's right. Emma Swan, the woman afraid of nothing, was stuck in a place hundreds of years ago, clueless.

How she'd gotten here had been much of a blurred memory, and if she tried to think of it. She'd only harm herself.

"Dammit Swan!" Emma snapped at herself as the cold breeze of the land swayed past her.

Biting her lip she looked up from the tiles of the pavement and back to the village. _Her _never to be village suited it better.

Emma decided to let the pain that crept into her drop and allowed herself to savor the moment.

The village lit up by the lanterns, glimmered in the moonlight gallantly, quite perfectly, it looked perfectly similar to the one in Henry's storybook.

She slapped a hand to her forehead momentarily. _It is a village in Henry's storybook..._A knot in her chest tightened again. _Henry._

She failed to get them back to Storybrooke. She _failed_ to get back to Henry. She was doing this all for him. And she _failed._

Emma's shoulders slumped shamelessly, but all was forgotten when she looked back at the village in awe. Each tavern lit, the streets oddly deserted. It had looked cozy, dangerously cozy.

Caught up in her thoughts, Emma hadn't realized the shape lingering just past her at the corner of her eye.

And just like that, the moment was ruined.

Blinking, Emma turned her gaze to fix out a slightly slender form, shorter than her; she concluded.

A light blue silken cloak draped over it as it hurried on much quicker, drawing the cloak closer to it's face as it did a fine job of blending in with the shadows.

Judging by the movements, Emma figured it was a woman, it had to be for it most certainly was not a guy.

Sure enough she witnessed a strand of dark curly brown hair fall from the cloak and woman quickly pulled it back, scurrying into the village.

Being the arrogant ass that she was, Emma followed her carefully.

She eyed the taverns in curiosity when she neared, yet had been careful enough not to lose the woman out of her sight.

Each tavern seemed dimmed and lighted, warm, comforting. Emma pursed her lips and frowned as she slightly tilted her head in attempt to read out a sign which clearly stated in large faint letters. _'Inn.'_

The woman came to a sudden stop beside a dark tavern.

Emma briskly came to a stop as well, though more clumsily than she intended. Her boots clicked against the pavement as she missed a step.

In front of her the woman straightened up quickly and looked from side to side.

Emma held her breath. _God dammit, what am I doing?_ Why did she follow this woman? What made her do so in the first place?

The woman slumped down again and turned as she walked up the steps of the tavern. Oblivious to the stiff blonde lingering in the background.

Once she opened it, Emma could here loud cheers of men coming from inside. Then her form disappeared inside as the tavern door shut behind her.

Emma stood in her spot awkwardly. It only occurred to her that the tavern or pub, hell whatever it was. Was beside the dark, silent, ocean.

"This is crazy," Emma muttered and shook her head as she turned away to leave. Maybe, she just had this thing of following people who'd seemed to catch her eye. Maybe she followed her because her instincts told her to?

Either way something warned her about this place. Hell something even warned her about being out here at night, alone, by herself. Did she already mention alone?

_Maybe I should check out the inn and revise a plan on how to get the hell out of here. _Emma told herself in thought as she shivered again.

Mary-Margaret would well damn scold her for being out here in the cold, at night, alone, by herself.

Not many things ringed her memory about old century villages, but she'd known from a fact that a lot of unpleasant things went around. _Especially at night. _Emma reminded herself. _Rape, murder, stealing, kidnapping...Shall I continue?_

The door of the tavern swung open again and a few drunken, what she assumed to be, pirates stumbled out halfway. Out yelling each other as they swayed from side to side, arms slung around each other. They then tripped clumsily and stumbled a bit more before face-planting into the cement. Not bothering to even move, they lay there.

Emma rolled her eyes, "pathetic." She murmured and finally made up her mind, passing the passed out pirates she couldn't help a smirk. She took a deep breath. Then entered.

Emma observed the tavern.

The pub was warm and smelled of alcohol...Perhaps something stronger? She just couldn't pinpoint what.

Sure she noticed the half drunk men, half passed out knights, bandits, thieves, and mostly pirates. But what _really_ caught her attention was the woman.

The woman's blue eyes sparkled, her curly raven hair bounced as she laughed to something a man told her.

Most likely a pirate.

Emma finally decided to move to her spot and down to the center pub.

Men would start eyeing her if she'd stood there any longer, and she did not want to mention how much they scared the shit outta her already.

"Care for something to drink, love?" The bar tender told her in a gruff voice, eyeing her as she sat down after a small hesitation.

Emma cringed as he called her that, oddly enough, the only person she didn't mind calling her that was a raggedly handsome, roguish, pirate.

Emma silently rolled her eyes, as if she could still here the cheeky bastard clearly in her mind.

"Cider will do," she replied casually and pulled out a few coins out of her side pocket, handing it to him.

"One cider coming right up!" He chided and twirled away.

She rose a brow.

Emma nodded to him gratefully when he came back a moment later and took the cup, briefly observing the cider before she downed it. The alcohol burned her throat, causing her head to spin for a moment.

Then she pushed the cup away from her.

Though it wasn't long before the door of the tavern swung open again, loud stomping followed after loud cheers of men as they parted.

That wasn't what caught her attention.

A very familiar pirate strolled in laughing as he clasped his hands.

"_Ah, here we meet captain!"_ Someone hollered.

"_Where's my beer?"_

Someone handed him a mug and he took a swig, "_cheers!"_ He called and clunk his mug with others. Then turned in her direction briefly.

Emma caught his gaze for a moment, the same ocean eyes holding back mystery and mischief. It was only a brief moment, he turned and looked back and chatted away with the group still surrounding them, the group soon parted as he and his jolly crew strolled over to a table in the corner. Passing her along the way.

She was about to call out his name when she paused. _He doesn't even know who you are yet...Hell he has both his hands, so why call him Hook? _The nagging voice inside her mind made her crazy!

Sure enough not only had he caught her attention, but someone else's along side of that.

The woman she'd followed.

Her eyes glinted as she looked to him in awe, admiring him? Probably.

Yet she too watched Ho-Killian, interact with others.

While her time here, Emma figured it was not necessary to spill to him that she knew who he was. He would find her insane. Because she knew she would if she were to be stuck in the same situation.

Then it happened.

He laid eyes on the, 'woman'. Excuse her if she didn't know her name. And watched as the woman returned his gaze a few times, quickly looking away as a blush threatened to creep onto her face.

_How cute..._Emma thought and downed her drink, as she resumed to watch them.

_Stalker_. She told herself and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

Finally, Killian got up and strolled over to the woman sharing a few words with her before he asked her to join him at his table.

Which she gladly accepted.

Emma didn't know how long she'd been listening to their conversation, but it had been interrupted when a frail looking man stumbled into the pub with a stick.

"Milah!" He called out as the crew parted.

She looked up at him, then looked away ashamed.

"Milah.." He motioned to her, "it's time to go." He spoke softly and Emma recognized him right away to be no other than Rumple himself.

He looked more frail in this form, and less...Dangerous.

"Good," Milah replied briefly glancing up at him as she sat down and poured herself another glass of who know's what. "So go."

"Who's this?" Killian spoke with slight interest as he glanced to him briefly before looking back at Milah.

"Ah, that's just no one," she replied as if Rumplestiltskin was really a nothing. "Just my husband."

"Oh," Killian looked to Rumple again with that cocky grin of his, "well he's a tad taller than you described."

Everyone laughed but her.

Emma only narrowed her eyes, having a sudden urge to defend him.

"Please," Rumple begged, "you have responsibilities."

"You mean like being a man, and fighting in the ogre wars?"

"Other wives became honored widows while I was lashed to the village coward." Milah spat, then sighed. "I need a break." She poured herself another glass, "run home Rumple." Milah glanced at him. "It's what your good at."

Killian watched Rumple smugly.

"Mama?" A small child like voice came from behind Rumple and a moment later a cute little boy appeared.

Emma's heart melted. He had looked so innocent and vulnerable. _Much like Henry._

"Bae," Rumple looked down at the child as he spoke in surprise and cupped his shoulder.

"You were supposed to wait outside son."

Milah's smile faltered, soon enough, she got up and grabbed her cloak as she took Bae by the shoulders and led him out. Rumple trailing behind like a puppy.

Killian only watched their retreating forms briefly, frowning.

_Smug bastard..._Emma thought and stretched as she got up and dropped another few coins off before trailing out of the tavern and into the cold of the night once again.

She could think of a few dozen reasons for them to be happy, but she didn't. Emma could care less whether their relationship took off or not.

Her mainly focus was on getting back to her family. To Henry. And she knew just how to do it. So she thought.

Emma shivered against the cold and stopped briefly, trying to remember where she'd last seen the 'inn.'

Sucking in a breath, she turned to go. Sad to say, it was with wrong timing.

The pain of the sudden forced open door was too unbearable. In which it caused her to stumble back, rubbing her forehead. "Ah! What the hell!"  
The dark tall clad stranger looked almost apologetic. Hell, her vision was too blurred at the moment.

"Lass, you should really watch where you go-"

"And you should really watch who you hit doors with!" Emma cut in with a sharp response and straightened up.

"Have I not done that already?"

Wait...That voice.

No, no, no! Oh dear god no!

Her head quickly snapped up to meet a pair of deep blue eyes.

Her apologetic stranger was no more than a pirate dressed in leather. And not only that. Killian Jones himself! Give this guy a round of applause.

He rose a brow at her, genuinely amused after witnissing the color drain from her face.

"Are you alright?" He asked now more concerned. "I didn't hit you hard enough, did I?"

Why on so many occasions did that sound so wrong? And who the hell was he to go around being nice to her after the scene he displayed in the tavern?

"I'm fine." She replied. Not only was Emma tired and frustrated. She was angry with him. But was it really his fault she winded up in this mess? Of course not.

"Any way to make it up m'lady?" Was that a wink?

She sighed in defeat. Emma by now couldn't care less about him or his ways. She wanted him to leave her alone. She wanted sleep.

"Take me to the nearest inn." Emma said.

His brows rose further as his lip twitched up into a smirk. "Well, I'm flattered that you think so highly of me. But love, we've only met each other. I'm not interested."

She shot him a pointed look. "_Not like that_. I mean take me to the nearest inn. I want to go to sleep." Emma shoved past him. "You know what? Never mind. Hell to that. I'll find the inn on my own!"

"Lass?"

"WHAT?"She spun around.

Killian made a gesture. "Inn's that way."

"I knew that." Emma snapped walking back past him again.

"No you didn't."

"Shut up."

He smirked as he rested a hand on the hilt of his cutlass. " Darling! I didn't even get your name!"

"That's because I didn't give it." Her response echoed through the silent night before she disappeared around the corner.

Fiery little lass, wasn't she now? It was alright. Killian loved a challenge.

That said. He turned and sauntered back into the tavern.

**I know I wanted to do a sequel to Second Star to The Right. But as of now, I don't have many ideas. I can't promise a day it'll be published but it'll be soon ;) Anyways! Enjoy. Reviews wouldn't hurt.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Emma did not get much sleep that night. Nightmares plagued her dreams through and through.

A loud knock jolted her awake, startled, she rolled off her bed and ended up hitting the floor with a loud thud.

The knock came again relevantly louder.

"Coming!" Sitting up, Emma rubbed her forehead, groggily blinking away sleep. She took her time to get up and to drag herself over to the door.

"Yes?" She opened to a short man.

"Sorry to deprive you of yer sleep, miss. But he wanted me to give you this."

He? Who's he?

Emma's about to pester him into further detail when he reached out and grabbed her wrist. He merely placed a neatly folded note into her outstretched palm before closing it with a pat.

"G'day m'lady." With a wave, he turned. Back now to her. Feet shuffling against the wooden floor. He made a quick escape.

"Wait!" She called out.

No use in that...He was long gone now.

"Nice to meet you too." Emma uttered a witty reply, retreating back into her temporary room where sleep was deprived moments before.

She let the door click shut behind her, before she had the chance to read it.

Unfolding it, she slowly walked along her room. A frown just visibly forming. _Come to my vessel. -Killian Jones._

Her grip on the note tightened.

Who was he to make such ominous requests? Did he really think that an apology would immediately sweep her off her feet and she'd come running straight back into his arms?

_No._ Emma shook her head. _Not a chance._

She folded the note and stuffed it into her pocket, letting out a huff. She then marched over to the window and drew the curtain. Immediately her gaze swept over the village below.

Killian was no where to be seen among the forest of crowded bodies. She'll give him credit to that.

Well...What was she supposed to do now? Carry out his request and go down to his ship? Hell no. The last thing Emma needed was to be abducted by a band of idiot pirates.

Emma backed from the window and turned for a long dramatic silent pause. "Screw that." She slipped her boots on before marching out the door.

She was met with a soft breeze once she stepped out of the inn. All of Emma's instincts told her to turn back, and pretend she'd never received the message.

_You've come this far..._A little voice at the back of her head reminded her.

The morning sunlight settled for the village. People passed by, carrying on with their daily lives as if they never bothered to notice her. A prentice and lively atmosphere about them.

Ok, so what if Emma did have second thoughts about this village? Maybe. When this was all over. Then maybe she'd have a chance here.

After a long moment, she shook her head and started on. This fairytale crap was getting into her head.

The wheels of a cart were to be heard nearby as someone huffed and pushed their cargo. A wail of a child rose not so far off.

Stuffing her hands deep into her pockets, Emma felt for the compass. The cool metal brushed her palm.

Relieved to find it there, she let out a breath and swept through the crowds. Quickening her steps.

The new sights and smells pleasantly danced around her until she'd reached port.

Her gaze swept over the port to find one single ship docked.

It was brown with red, yellow, and blue.

A band of what she assumed to be pirates walked up and down it's plank. Loading and unloading cargo. While others swept across the deck. Checking the canyons, gunpowder, and weaponry. Some even tightened ropes. Loud cheers and shouts came from them.

Emma stopped when she heard a voice above the rest.

"On your feet for the Captain!"

A visible frown formed. And as she started walking onward toward the ship again, the voices grew genuinely closer.

She could now see two men haul a smaller man up to his feet. One roughly shoved a stick at him before the two resumed their work.

"I-I remember you! From the bar!" He wobbled, pointing to a tall dark leather clad pirate. Who was quickly assumed to be the captain...Killian.

Emma clutched her fists as she stormed up to the plank. Now exposed to not only the crew. But the captain himself.

Oddly enough the crew hadn't seemed to mind her presence as they went along with their business.

"It's always nice to make an impression." He replied. His crew murmured a chuckle.

"Where are my manners," uncrossing his arms, he straightened up, "we haven't been formerly introduced. Killian Jones."

She felt a sudden pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. Emma struggled against them only to find much to her dismay the grip tighten.

She quickly kicked at dead air as she felt herself being lifted and dropped roughly onto the deck of the ship beside the small man.

All eyes were strained on her now.

"...Aboard my ship."

If looks could kill her glare was definitely the deadliest.

"What are you doing aboard my ship?" Killian repeated his previous question. Now fully ignoring the small man beside her.

"You sent for me."

"Aye," he gave a signaling nod, "that I did."

Before Emma had time to register, cold pairs of hands closed around her wrists. Forcing her to her feet, giving her the time make a glimpse of two scruffy men who now restrained her.

"You sick bastard! Tell them to let me go!" Emma's gaze shot back to Killian in alarm as they dragged her off.

He ignored her request, simply glancing back down at the small man again.

"You have my wife..." He reasoned.

"I've had many man's wife."

Another chuckle erupted among the crew. Their voices trailed off to something Emma couldn't quite catch as the two dragged her below deck and shoved her into a cramped room.

"The Captain will speak to ye shortly." One informed her in a gruffy voice before he slammed the door.

Behind the door, their angry muffled voices trailed away.

Emma was left alone once again. Feigning silence.

She walked over to the door to make her quick escape. Sadly. It was locked. _God damn it._ She twisted the door knob, giving the door a jolt. Nothing.

Suddenly the door abruptly opened. Emma stumbled back.

"Not quite the introductions." He strolled in.

"No." Her gaze followed him. "Let me go."

The captain stopped. Back to her. "Afraid that's not possible, luv."

She knew it. It was a trap, yet Emma had been quick to fall for it.

Anger slowly rose inside of her. "Let. Me. Go. Hook." Emma gritted.

Killian spun around. Brows knitted. Gaze hardened. "What?"

She was about to make a snarky response when a sudden pain jolted her and rippled through her side. Emma reached out and clutched her side. Her hand soaked into something so sickly warm and sticky. She dropped to her knees in agony.

"Bloody hell!" Emma saw him shuffle across the room over to her before her head hit the floor.

"_Weigh anchor! Weigh anchor! Fight back mates!" _She could muster him call out into the hallway. He crouched to gently cradle her into his chest.

Those pair of haunting blue eyes stared back at her before her world darkened.

_Time's running out..._

_Time's running out..._

_Time's running out..._

Something merely whispered.

Darkness. Emma was surrounded by endless darkness. She looked to and fro.

"Where the hell am I?"

Silence.

"Ok...Well that was useful."

_Your only hope of getting back has fallen into the wrong hands. Get it back before your time runs out._

What the actual fuck?

Before she could pester, the ground around her disappeared. Down she fell into an eternal endless darkness.

Emma jolted awake as cold water made contact with her face. Struggling to sit up, she bit back a yelp.

"Easy there." A strong voice pursuited.

A woman hovered above her. Dark brown curls bouncing.

She further sat up. "Where am I?"

"Aye, on the Jolly Roger." The woman confirmed. Resting her hands on her hips.

"I'm well aware of that." Her brows furrowed. "What happened?"

"You were hit with an arrow. We were attacked." Her gaze hardened for a moment. "Luckily I got the arrow out in time. You'll be fine." She gave a genuine nod. "How are you feeling?"

"Other than feeling like I've run through hell and back? Fine."

The woman's shoulders relax for a seering moment, she walked over to a bowl, picked it up, walked back. "Drink." She instructed, setting it down upon her lap.

Emma studied the woman.

She was wearing more of an appropriate pirate garment. Blue eyes gentle with a touch of a bright fire in them.

"Thank you." Emma lifted the bowl up to her lips, feeling a slight tingle of bitterness, she swallowed, then set the bowl down.

Lifting herself up with her elbows, Emma slid her legs off of the bed, and properly sat up. Pain pricked her side almost immediately.

"Woah, woah, woah!" The woman rushed to her side. "You need to rest."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I've faced worse. I'm fine." Showing her that she was indeed fine, Emma stood up and limped across the room and headed out the door, back up to the upper deck.

Bleak sunlight hit her face as she emerged from below.

Immediately, she squinted, peering around. Much to her horrors. She was surrounded by miles of ocean.

_No._

"No, no, no, no!" Emma fastened her steps across the deck. Voice just cracking as she reached the rail and gripped it. "NO!"

No land in sight. No ports. No nothing...

Then she felt for her compass. Much to her dismay to find it gone.

Her eyes widened and then narrowed when it came into realization. Emma let go of the railing and whipped around. "Jones!"

Killian was surprised she'd called him. "What is it, love?" He asked straightening up with the same hard stare.

"My compass, if you please." She merely outstretched her hand.

He rose a brow in response. "What compass?"

"Don't play stupid with me Hook!" Emma snapped. "I know you have it."

"Bugger off, invalid. I do not have your bloody compass! I am not this Hook you keep mentioning of!"

That happened...

She stepped closer. "Then where is it? Huh? And tell me? Why are we in the middle of an ocean? I did not plan on being trapped here with pirates!"

"We WERE BLOODY ATTACKED FOR THE LAST TIME WOMAN! If you do not care to join me and me crew as I so kindly called you for. Then you can walk the bloody plank and pray that whatever finds you takes pity upon your soul!"

Emma clutched her fists but made no further movement to speak. She shot him a final glare before she turned sharply and stormed back below deck. Slamming the door behind her with a loud thud.

"Killian...You should've been a little nicer to her." Milah warned, casting him a pointed look.

His whole bloody crew soon joined in.

He gritted his teeth, visibly muttering something inaudible under his breath before following her.

Three loud bangs were heard from the door to the crew's quarters once he'd gotten to the bottom.

He knocked again only to have Emma sharply open the door. "WHAT?"

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

"GREAT."

"GOOD."

"FINE." She slammed the door in his face.

Killian grimaced as he retreated back to the upper deck where Milah and half his crew stood amused.

"Happy?" He was no where to being amused to that point.

Milah shook her head and got back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Emma let out an exasperated sigh and kicked her feet back, tilting her head upward.

The other hammocks lay unsettled before her. They rocked to the side, and with them a rythmatic pattern of creaks followed through the cramped, lifeless, room.

Her brows ceased. She was sure this room was ages older than her. If not, _centuries. _

"Welcome to the carribeans..."

The door gently opened. Emma rolled her head over.

It was Milah.

The woman was hesitant at first, but surely enough stepped into the room.

"How are ya feeling?" she asked; stepping over to her with a plate of fruits.

"I've had worse," Emma answered. She pulled herself up into a sitting position ( she found it infuriating.)

"Glad to see yer up 'n about." Milah said. She set the plate down upon her lap.

She eyed the fruit. "...thanks."

They fell into awkward silence.

"So..."Milah began; arms crossed over chest. "Judging from your décor, I gather you're not from around here?"

"Nope." Emma replied and slid her legs over the side of the bed. "I'm not even from this time...I wasn't supposed to be here to begin with."

"Oh."

She winced as she set the plate of fruits down upon the wooden floor.

"And the Captain? Not annoying you now, is he?"

"He's...interesting."

She stared at her, smiling. "Mind him, you. 'is not so bad once ya warm up to him."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Its true! He's actually...well..."she trailed off, sitting down.

Emma raised her brows. She rested her elbows upon her knees.

"You don't know the guy. You don't know what he is capable of, or what his motives are. He's done many things. Bad things."

"That isn't all true, Killian has a reputation, but I know him well enough. He is a Captain at that. He'll do what he must to keep his men in order."

"Lie, cheat, murder?" Emma countered.

The silence returned; their own breathing and the chants from above accompanied it.

"He's a good man. Lass, he has a heart. I believe he can change for the better." Milah acknowledged.

"He's a psycopath." Emma mumbled under her breath. "But do you love him? I mean, look around." Slowly she stood. "The guy's lurred us onto his..." Emma searched for the right word.

"Vessel."

"Right." She made a gesture.

"A story for another time...perhaps."

"Yeah, well," she turned her back to her, searching. "I don't do time lady."

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Looking." she grunted a response. Emma crouched, scooped up a stack of books, then twisted around to her again.

She tilted her head to one side, pursing her delicate lips. "For what?"

"If we're to retrieve that compass, we'll need the information we can bargain for- a hand please?"

"I do not follow..."Milah said. She took the books away from her grasp.

Emma let out a huff. She straightened up and patted herself down. "As you've mentioned earlier...I'm not from this realm, thanks for asking. That compass-the one stolen from me. I'm not sure what to do with it but I have a guess that it will help me." She paced about with hand gestures. "I need answers. Real ones. And without it, I have no way of getting back." Emma stopped. "Unless..."she looked over.

"Unless what?" Her brows lowered.

"Would the Captain happen to know?" She stared at her.

Milah looked dumbfounded for a moment. She straightened her skirts. "I'll ask him...later." There was a pause.

Emma sighed, rubbing her temples. "That won't do me any good. I need to get ba-"

"Why is it so important?" Her question startled her into silence. Milah didn't mean to sound offensive. Genuinely curious.

"Excuse me?" Emma shot a you-can't-be-serious-look her way. Which the other woman idly ignored.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Mind my asking...but why is it important that you get home?"

She turned away, biting her lip. Emma let her eyes linger on the floor for a short period of time. She remembered her mother's fearful eyes as they were ripped away from each other. The deafening sound of the portal closing in on her. Mary-Margaret screaming her name. The darkness. The fear. And then her son's warm brown eyes, and the way they lit in excitement as she called him in for 'Operation Cobra'. Then she remembered Cora. Her menacing smile, dark eyes, repulsive and wild. _No. _Dread overcame her. They were in trouble! All of them! The town, her family, her friends, her son...oh god! Henry. She needed to get back! She _needed _to. Her son. What would she do with him?

Emma suddenly whipped around. Her eyes bulged.

Milah jerked in startle, taken aback.

"My son is in Storybrooke! He needs _me_."

"You have a son?" She stared at her in awe. For a moment, an uneasy shadow fell over her gaze. In a blink, it was gone.

She nodded in grimace. "The place where I'm from." Emma turned away to stare at a wall. She needed a plan. She needed a way off this _damn_ ship. She needed help from the only person who would will it. She needed to find Rumplestiltskin. "We need to find-"

"Milah, I need yo-" a voice interrupted them. A door creaked open as the Captain himself poked his head in (the last person she wanted to see.) He paused, and stared at them both. "Was I interrupting something?" There was no doubt of curiosity in his gaze. But also genuine worry.

Emma looked away and Milah looked up with the sweetest smile. "Not at all, Captain. What may I assist you in today?"

"I want you to dine with me." Milah nodded and got up. "I hope you don't mind." She looked over at Emma with apology as she crossed the room.

The blonde looked back with a troubled smile. "Not at all, go ahead." Emma waved her hand around for emphasis.

Killian held the door open as the brunette brushed past him.

"Need something...captain?" She rose her brows. She felt his gaze pierce her.

"Go dine with the crew, after all-it would be a waste to dispose of that delicate body of yours. Cast into the sea. A waste indeed."

Emma sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "What do you want?"

"Oh, lass, is that anyway to talk to your Captain?" He smiled at her. Instead of teasing, it was cold.

"You're not my Captain."

He crossed the room and bent. "As long as you're on my ship, I make the demands. You follow them." His voice lowered to her ear, cold, just like the rest of the bastard. "Did I make myself clear, Swan?"

She remained silent.

"I said." Killian repeated, forcefully lifting her chin to meet his gaze. "Did I make myself clear?"

Emma glared at him. "Yes."

He searched her eyes for lies. Satisfied at last. Killian released her chin and straightened up; a smile plastered across his face, he schooled his features. "I'm glad we're both on the same page, love. Now be a good lass and go join the crew." He turned and left for the door. "Oh and Swan?" Killian looked back at her. "I do hope you get better." The door clicked shut.

She smiled menacingly at the door. Her hands closed into fists. _Buddy, you have no idea what I am capable of. _

Emma had a wonderful imagination of her throttling him in his sleep. The happiest day of her life.

She sighed. "Your wish is my command _Captain_." Emma replied to the air; tone mocking. She dragged herself across the room and out to join the rest of his lovely crew.

"How long have you been here?" she couldn't help but wonder to the old guy. Emma decided it was best to sit beside him after she'd dragged herself around the deck. Unsure for once. That and his 'lovely' crew weren't so friendly after all.

His name was Fiesel. At least that was her speculation...or was it Weasel?

She decided him the moment she laid eyes on him. "Eh...'is a while." He scratched his ear.

Emma rose her brows. "And you're not tired of this?" She set her bread back down on her plate.

"Nay." Fiesel chuckled. "I've been here fer too long to miss any of this."

She smiled and leaned back, a soft sigh escaping her. The view from the crow's nest was quite something. In truth, Emma decided to climb up here to escape the crew's annoying pester. That's when she stumbled upon him.

Pink clouds dotted the horizon where the sun had dipped behind them. It was growing late. The water turned dark as it sloshed and lapped gently in the still night. Rocking the ship. Below, lanterns covered the deck; lighting their faces with a warm glow. Jolly music danced about. Cheers filled their ears. A heavy scent of weak ale lingered in the air, tankards clinked. Was it always like this aboard a pirate ship?

"I've never come to miss this...thought bout leavin', often." His words rang her out of her thoughts.

"Oh?" Emma looked at him. "What changed your mind?"

There was a soft sigh. His face wrinkled as he narrowed his brows. For a short moment he stared into nothingness.

She immediately regretted asking him. "I'm sorry." She frowned. "I shouldn't have asked."

Fiesel smiled suddenly and brought his brows up, chuckling. His eyes danced in delight. "Not yer fault for askin' such an old lad as meself." He went on. "It was the Cap'n. A brave lad he is, took great care of me. I saw great potential in him. Ye should've seen 'im in battle. Took down ten on his own. Proud of 'im till this day."

"That's why you stayed." Emma finished for him. She gave him a knowing look.

"Aye." He rubbed his neck. "Like a son to me, he is. Even past all of his demeanor, I still see a child in him. The look in his eyes."

"What look?" She leaned in, curiously.

He stared out to sea sadly. "The look of a lost boy." Fiesel looked back at her with a smile. "Ain't he bad, lass."

Emma followed his gaze and bit her cheek. She heard enough of that today. A shame she could not agree.

"What about you?"

Her shoulders squared as she looked back at him.  
"Pardon?"

He tilted his head. "Lass, you've lost someone too. I see it in your eyes. Who was it?"

Emma's gut twisted. She stared out to sea again. Its lonely song called out to her. "He's not dead..."she started quietly. "Just lost, and I need to get back to him." The more she thought about the whole situation. The more determined she became.

"I hope you succeed." He understood her reason.

"Thank you." Emma managed a smile. It was near midnight now...was it? She could not tell.

"You best be going now, lass. Sleep it off, after all, ya need the rest." He echoed her thoughts.

"Thank you again, Fiesel. I hope to talk to you soon again. Sleep well." She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and climbed out of the crow's nest.

The deck had fallen silent. It made her wonder how long she'd been up there with him. Emma stretched her legs out and scanned the deck. It was dark, now that the lanterns were out. She was sure she was alone...so she thought.

"Lass?"

Emma jumped and whipped around, her heart thumped against her chest.

Milah rose her hands in surrender. She stepped out of the shadows. "Steady, 'is just me."

Her shoulders relaxed as she drew out a breath.

"You wanted to speak to me?" she inquired, and came to a halt.

"Right..." Emma scanned the deck again. She reached for her arm and pulled her closer. "You know when we reach the next port...so tell me."

Milah frowned and opened her mouth.

"She doesn't." A new voice cut her off, before she had a chance to speak. The scent of rum and sea filled the air. Killian stepped out of the shadows.

Emma froze.

"I was beginning to wonder where you went, Swan." He smiled and tipped his head in a slight nod. "Curious."

Her hand slowly dropped back to her side. She fell silent.

"Milah.."Killian's smile warmed to her, so he softly replied. "Go to my quarters, I will join you shortly."

Milah returned it and gave Emma a sympathetic look. She sauntered away and disappeared out of view.

"Now." His voice made her blood run cold. "What are you planning?"

She felt her anger boil. Emma closed her hands into fists. "I'm leaving this damn ship, Captain. Whether you like it or not."

His gaze darkened as he strode towards her. "No you aren't." Killian pushed her against the mast and pinned her. "What are you planning? Be honest with me."

"_Fine__. _You want honesty? I'm going after that fucking compass! And you aren't going to do a damn thing to stop me."

His face was close to her's. She felt pure rage roll off his shoulders. "Are you bloody insane?"

Sigh...here goes nothing. "My son is in Storybrooke! He needs me! I AM getting back to him. And you AREN'T going to stop me." She growled. "I'm GOING to go see the Dark One."

Killian's jaw clenched, but his grip on her loosened. Regret shadowed his gaze. He looked down.

"Let me rephrase that." Emma glared at him and pushed his hand away. "I'm going to go see the only man who _will_ help me. Rumplestiltskin."

His eyes locked onto her's again. Wide and puzzled.

_Good._ She thought with satisfaction. _Let him figure it out on his own._ Emma shoved his arm off and pushed past him. She went back below deck, and he never stopped her.

**I apologize for the late chapter! I've been busy lately, so I haven't had the time to work on it. Anyways, enjoy! -Reviews are appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Thunder split the dark sky. The Jolly Roger was nothing, but small compared to the brewing storm. Though as the Captain mentioned before...it would pull through.

Massive waves crashed upon the decks, rain pounded, sails were pulled.

Dark forms scurried around shouting out curses as they worked around their assigned commands. It was dangerous, for the rain soaked decks were hazardous. Even for the men. One slip would send a soul plummeting into her cold, livid, waters.

The sea goddess was angry.

She heard it in whispers from the crew. But they never dared to speak of it around the Captain.

Rumors of an ancient sea goddess still living in these very waters to this day spread through tales, sometimes through songs. Funny right?

Emma twisted and turned in her sleep. Her dreams were the same. Portals, compasses, hearts, Cora, Henry, her family, hearts being torn out, hearts crushed in front of her, falling, Cora pulling Henry's heart out.

There was a large jolt, and then Emma felt herself overturn and drop. Fear crossed her as pictures of Henry's eyes full of despair flicked through her mind. He cried out to her. She didn't get to him in time.

"No...no!"

"Easy, easy!" A voice hissed. A voice that pulled her out of her dark tendrils of sleep. Someone prodded her shoulders lightly.

Emma pulled away as her eyes flickered open.

"Easy now lass..."someone whispered back to her. It was dark. "Tis was only a dream." A hand rubbed her back in slow , smooth, circles. Relaxing, her shoulders dropped.

"Wha-" she started with startling frightened eyes. "What happened?"

Leather crinkled as he shifted. "Were hav'n a bad dream, lass." The voice hurt her ears. It came out gruff and far too fetched.

Emma merely whispered a soft 'thank you' as an offering hand pulled her up to stand. She squinted peering around through the dark quarters. Scuffling numbers of boots thudded above the crew quarters. Now it dawned upon her. They were alone.

"What happened?" she asked.

Emma rubbed her neck realizing how sore it felt.

She knew that sleep was useless now...even if she tried...there would be no way to dive back into her nightmares. Emma snorted at that prospect. There was _no_ way sleep would forfeight her tonight. Even if she wanted it to. She couldn't go back there. To a place where no light shed upon her, no comfort offered, no warmth, no peace. Just nightmares.

A dismantled throat clear pulled her back to reality.

"You're requested above at once. Captain's orders." Now that the door was left ajar, a light flickered past it. Illuminating his shiny bald scalp and short scruff. Hollow black eyes blink back at her.

"What's going on?" Emma repeated.

He scratched his ear and shook his head. "No not I know...but I fear nothing good to come...nothing good ever does-now come!" He pulled her along before she could protest.

A door slammed behind them from afar. They hurried up the staircase and out to meet a harsh night.

Emma's body tensed. She found herself ducking her head away. Cold pellets of rain crashed down upon them all.

"To your stations you scurvy dogs!" To her left the Captain barked out his command stomping around the vessel.

They all were soaked to the bone; wet rats, he called them . Men slipped around the vessel losing their footing. colliding into each other, falling onto their behinds.

If on different circumstances, she found it ridiculously amusing. It was all Emma could do to contempt herself from falling into a fit of laughter there and now.

On the other note it was painfully sad to watch.

Waves crashed upon the decks, lightening crackled through the dark sky, thunder clasped.

Oh that damn sea goddess was angry alright.

"You! Why are you just standing there? Move your arse and make yourself useful!"

Emma shot Killian a furtive glare. Jaw clenching from the cold, she ignored him and moved across the deck. Her attire was not fit for these harsh conditions. She was sure the gods were laughing at her at the very moment for she managed to nearly lose her footing more than once.

"Why the fuck do they even clean these decks!" she hissed letting herself cling to the mast for dear life. Her whole body trembled as another sheer bucket of ice poured down upon her forcing her stiffen.

"Mr. Smee go a few notches right! See if you can steer clear of the storm!"

She felt his presence, rum, spice, and everything nice. Lovely.

"Will we pull through?" Smee yelled back.

Emma's grip tightened.

"The Jolly can whether any storm!" He laughed.

The Jolly Roger gave a violent jerk to one side in confirmation.

She felt the air knocked out of her as something(or someone) barreled into her. She was pinned against the mast exhaling sharply. That was going to bruise.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist holding her tight as the ship gave another jerk. They stumbled backwards.

A few seconds went by before everything stilled again. A few more went by before Emma began struggling against the grip.

"Steady now, lass." The feel of his scruff tickled her neck. Hot breath upon her ear. He released turning her around. "You alright there Swan?"

Of course it had to be him.

Emma frowned nodding slightly. "I'm fine." She gave him a tight lipped smile. The way his gaze held her's. Something about that look frightened her. "Don't worry about me, worry about your crew." Stepping back she turned and slipped along the wet deck.

_Get to the railing._ Something chants in her mind. _Get to the railing. Get to the railing. _Emma squinted through the harsh rain peering around. She'd be damned to see anything in this haze.

Why was it so important?

She reached the railing in time as rain hammered heavily against her. "Damn it." she hissed gripping it. How much longer would she endure this?

As if something seemed to have already answered her question, Emma felt a sudden magnetic pull.

The vessel tilted at her side.

Men yet again slipped, or collided into each other letting out startled cries.

It tugged at her again with such force that in a mere moment Emma lost her footing.

At first everything was a blur, and then she felt her body drop. Looking down she could see the dark, wild, trecherous water closing in on her. Waiting for the impact her eyes closed.

It never came.

Rough fingers wrapped around her hand. Her eyes flickered open glancing up.

The Captain's free hand clung to the ropes whipping above him. He tightened his grip and began to pull her up towards him. "Hang on!"

"I can't!" she cried back wide-eyed. The magnetic force pulled her down again tilting the Jolly Roger further.

"Jones let go!"

He grasped the meaning of her words. "Are you bloody insane?"

Damn pirate was sure to go down with her. Not a good sign.

Emma's feet dangled in the air as she glanced down at the raging sea below. She lifted her head up again gritting her teeth. "If you don't let go everyone will die!"

Something firm gripped her ankle pulling her down towards the raging sea.

She released his grip.

. . .

"No!" He tried to reach out for her. The Jolly Roger jerked him back evening out again. Killian let go of spare ropes. "Bloody hell..."he cursed whipping around. Yanking on a noose he tied it around himself.

"Captain no!" Milah struggled over to him frantically. "You can't! Tis' too dangerous." She gripped his arm.

"Emma's still out there." he answered prying her fingers off him. "She's going to bloody drown."

"So will you!" Milah's voice rose over the rain.

Rain continued to pour heavily over their already soaked bodies.

That was the moment Killian saw the fear of losing him in her eyes. Relaxing his shoulders he gently pulled her cold nimble fingers to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them. "I'll be alright Milah...I'm a hell of a Captain remember?"

"I can't lose you." Lowering her head, her shoulders droop in defeat.

Killian released her fingers, lifting her chin. "I know." He held her gaze for a moment longer. He then pulled away turning back to the raging sea below.

It never ceased. . . much to his dismay.

He dove in after her.

She gritted her teeth straining to keep above surface. It seemed her lack of effort never paid off as another wave pulled her under again. Emma resurfaced a short moment later gasping for breath. She was pulled under. Yet again.

The dark water grew bottomless through her blurred vision as she pawed around. She knew her wasted effort and energy would go down hill. And for what? Nothing. Her body ached, her muscles ached. Emma needed air. It would only be a matter of time before her whole system shut off completely. She knew.

Below her. Emma caught sight of a dark object. It shifted into something close to a human face. A familiar one. Words chanted over and over in her mind in gibberish. Again. She felt a strong pull. Air immediately left her lungs, shortly replaced with the bittersweet taste of salt water.

Firm arms wrapped around Emma's waist pulling her towards the surface. She never forgot the look of pure scorn and despair before her world went dark.

. . .

It felt cold. Emma Swan could not bloody move, nor hear, nor see. Infact, she was numb. Is this what dying felt like?

"_Give her space." _

"_Captain-"_

"_I said give her space." _

Her eyes flickered open. Everything was a blur. Even the figures crouched down beside her.

Emma tried lifting her head.

"Don't – lass..."

She met the Captain's eyes.

When did they ever get so blue? And that voice. That damn authorative voice that did things to her.

He was crouching beside her. Eyes narrowed on her chest.

She grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards her.

Killian stilled.

"Don't let them take her." she hissed.

The Captain tensed. "What?"

"They...can't...take-" Emma stiffened, back arching. Her eyes rolled back. She dropped her head onto the planks of the deck.

. . .

Voices. She heard so many voices. . . . all whispering to her from the darkness. The same rhythm. The same soft tones. They got louder. "_Emma_." They were saying. _"Emma."_

Her eyes flickered open. She met blind sunlight. A soft breeze tugged at her. Devastating silence with nothing but her breathing to accompany it. She frowned.

The grass beneath her softly curled at her toes. Emma rolled her head over. Wait grass?

"Welcome. Emma Swan."

Her head shot up. She then immediately stiffened.

It was probable to be the most beautiful thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

Emma stared at the elf; jaw slightly gaped. _Clearly male. _

Strong jaw, soft cheek bones, thick eyebrows, soft brown eyes, long white hair cascading down his back. He was unusually lean and muscular for an elf. He stood firm and tall, dressed in white breeches, head slightly tilted. A bow was clung to his back. Definitely male.

They studied each other's profiles for a long period of time.

"You're probably wondering who I am, and why you're here." he spoke unusually soft.

"I was beginning to, yeah." Emma stared at his outstretched hand.

She frowned.

"Come." The elf beckoned.

She placed her hand in his own.

Light surrounded them.

Blinding their eyes.

Emma closed her's, feeling the thousands of electric currents pulse through her body. As quick they were to come. They were gone.

Silence occupied her.

"We're here."

She opened her eyes. Emma stared, half bewildered, half astonished. A white alibaster hall towered over them. Bright light peeked through the carved windows. A large, white, crystal chandileer hung above them when they passed.

"What is this place?" Emma breathed. Her eyes traveled around.

"This." The elf nodded. "Is the council of the elders."

They entered a wide palace-like room. She made a mental note to herself. Everything was definitely breakable material.

In the center of the room, stood a large glass ball. Light evaporated from it's center.

She realized she stopped walking. Staring at it, her fingers wrapped tightly around the elf's.

Noticing this, Emma unlaced them dropping her hand to her side.

His mouth twitched upwards.

"Look inside." he said. "What do you see?"

Emma peered in. She stared straight through with narrowed brows, searching.

"I don't see anything."

He lifted his hand, raising her chin. The elf stared at her through his dark lashes.

Emma looked at him slightly flustered.

"Look closely." he whispered.

The light dispersed. Replaced by a cloud of grey.

What she witnessed. What she never imagined. What she hadn't thought about in years. Crawled back to her in utter horror.

"I..." She was turning pale. "I-I...-no." Trembling hands dropped back to her side. She began to back away. "I ca-...I can't."

"You can." insisted the elf.

"No." Emma felt nauseous.

"Emma."

She shook her head.

"_Protect it. "_

What?

Emma glanced up.

He was gone.

She found herself standing in a different setting. A forest.

What the hell was going on? What was with this dream? Was this even a dream? Emma wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Eerie silence. No birds, no breeze, no animals, no nothing. Everything still. Which wasn't creepy at all or anything.

She looked to the trees . Blind light seeped through their branches.

With a tilt of her head to one side. Her brows narrowed.

It continued to spread. Light ripped through the scenery much to her bewilderment.

"Emma." The voice was slow, painful. "EMMA!"

Emma had to cover her ears.

Ground ripped from underneath her. Trees disappeared. The sky shattered. "Emmmaaaa."

Light pulled her out.

. . .

"_She. . ."_

"_Bloody hell. I know."_

"_What will we tell her?"_

"_. . . i don't know."_

"_Captain, she needs to kno-"_

"_-she will. In time." _

Her head ached. Her throat was swollen, all the more, made it harder to swallow.

Emma rolled her head to one side. She was still dreary with sleep. "What happened?" she whispered hoarsely.

Heads snapped up. Blue and brown eyes meeting green.

Oh, right.

"Swan." A brief flicker of emotion left his gaze. He frowned. "You're awake."

"So you've noticed."

The Captain ordered Smee away, telling him brief instructions and to fetch Milah. They shared a look, telling her whatever discussion they were mulling over, wasn't over. The door clicked shut.

He knelt beside her. More specifically the bed she is on, a roll of bandage in one hand.

Emma jolted up at his touch.

"Relax."

Their eyes met.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Helping." He gestured to her ankle.

"I'll do it myself!" Emma answered quickly. Her eyes widened. "Give it to me."

"Swan." Killian stared at her. "Learn to trust someone who knows what he's doing."

She stiffened. Sudden memories of their trip on the beanstalk rushed back to her. Hook telling her to trust him. Her abandoning him. All because of her god damn capability to let people in. To trust them. She was right not to. He had back-stabbed her in the end. They all did.

Emma grew suddenly quiet. Letting him work on her ankle.

He was gentle with binding it.

"Where am I?"

"Captain's quarters."

She raised her brows, and for the first time since she'd awoke, examined the room.

It was small for a Captain's quarters.

She went back to watching him.

He was tense. Moving about with sharp gestures.

Emma noticed the dark circles under his eyes. His hair was messy, sticking out in all directions.

She found something incredibly sexy about that. Though she wouldn't admit that to him. Or to anyone. Ever.

He wasn't sleeping well.

The Captain leaned forward, pressing his lips to her, now, bound ankle.

She jolted again. Stomach fluttering at the gesture.

"There, lass." He leaned back, watching her.

Emma tore her gaze away. She hugged her knees. "Thanks."

The door burst open.

Killian stood up, turning.

Milah and Smee marched in.

"Emma!" the brunette cried, relieved. "You're okay." Milah rushed to her.

She waved her hand in slight gesture. Emma quietly greeted her.

"I've brought you something to eat." She set down a plate of...god knows what.

"Thank you. . . what is it?"

"Eel meat." The other woman confirmed. "I made it myself!"

"Lovely."

Milah clasped her hands. Oblivious. "Can I get you anything else?"

Emma poked at her meal, glancing up. She smiled apologetically. "Actually. . . water would be fine."

"I'll go get it!" Smee was out the door.

How generous.

Silence.

Killian and Milah stole each other glances.

Emma continued poking her meal.

"Emma."

She glanced up.

It was Milah. Her gaze fell to the floor.

"What?"

She felt unsteady under the Captain's stare. Ghost trace of his cold lips on her skin. . . a chill ran down her spine.

"What happened while you were down there?"

Emma slowly froze, growing silent. She set her fork down, and stared at her meal.

". . . Emma."

"I don't know."

"Then how do explain the mysterious pendant around your neck, love?"

Emma looked down, growing tense. A small black stone hung loose around her neck. When the hell did that happen? She closed her eyes. "I . . .don't know."

"We'll be in port in a few days. I need to contact an old ally of mine. He may know of this." Killian turned to leave. "Get some rest."

He and Milah left the cabin.

It went back to being quiet. A silence she didn't mind.

Emma stared at the ceiling as she lay down. She needed answers. She needed to get back to her son.

_Protect it. _

She fell asleep.

. . .

The next day was eventful.

The Captain ordered her above deck, giving her brief instructions to follow through. They of course, sounded like chores to her. Fun right?

She'd complained about how he was getting back at her by putting her to work.

So. There she was, scrubbing away decks.

It was the only way she'd earn the Captain's alliance. If you can't fight them. Join them right?

To make matters worse. The weather was not any better for these working conditions.

Emma was hell bent on getting this done.

The crew were somewhat concerned as she attacked the wooden planks with her old rag.

Her muscles ached. Her knuckles were sore. Her back hurt. Her shoulders screamed for her to stop.

Everything was a bitch.

"Lassie." Someone placed their hand on her shoulder. "I think that's enough. Yer done with them."

"-No I need to get this littl - oww! Okay!" He ripped it out of her grip.

"Report to Milah."

Emma groaned, rubbing her neck. She stretched, relishing in the warm feeling of sunlight.

Unaware of the Captain's eyes on her.

Picking up her bucket. She stormed over to Milah. "I've swabbed the decks." She dropped it.

Milah turned away from conversation. "Aye, ya did good." She nodded. "You are free."

Emma sighed. "Thank you." She headed to the railing.

The sea remained calm below. Far better than the previous night.

Emma leaned against it, staring out at the horizon. She narrowed her brows.

Thoughts ran through her mind about the face, the dream, and the necklace.

What the hell was going on?

They went to the portal, her mother, never seeing Storybrooke again, Cora-

. . . Cora.

Her shoulders tensed.

If it hadn't been for that witch.

She'd never winded up here. In this mess. In the past. When Captain freaking Hook still didn't exist.

And what of Rumplestiltskin? Had he succeeded in becoming the Dark One? Had he become the Dark One at all?

Everything was screwed. Nothing made sense. She was growing frustrated by the day.

Emma looked at the pendant.

It hadn't changed color.

She looked back up. "I will find you, Henry."

Emma turned, heading down to the crew's quarters.

Nothing would prevent her now.

. . .

From afar, a large, dark, boat appeared out of the midst. It had a wan appearance, and gruesome colors.

A tall, lean, muscular man closed a telescope. They had lost the Jolly Roger for a while. It was pure luck.

"What is it, Cap'n?" Another man asked.

The first looked back at him. Smile gruesome. "We have it. . . and now. Captain Jones will pay."

He hopped off, turning his back. "Call the crew to assemble! We have unfinished business to attend to."

. . .

Somewhere in Storybrooke Maine, Mary-Margaret's head shot up. She cried out.

"Snow!" David rushed to her bedside. "Calm down . . . it's alright. You're safe. Henry's safe."

The pixie-cut woman shook her head in distraught. Her forehead drenched with cold sweat. ". . . no. I saw her! I SAW her David!" Mary-Margeret's eyes were wide.

The prince knelt, entwining their fingers. He gave her hand a squeeze. "Who did you see?"

Her head dropped. "Our daughter. . . Emma. She's alive."

. . .

**Oooh look! I updated :D. . . i apologize for not updating sooner, but with the finals, I just. had. no. time. ha. . . ha. . ha. Okay. Go and enjoy. Because, lol, nooo. I have no idea, where this story's going to take off. . . or if I will finish it.**

**Reviews are appreciate. **


	5. Chapter 5

Three months earlier.

The spell lifts and slowly disperses.

She's late.

"Henry I'm sorry." Frustration crawling through her brain, Regina leans against the tree, worn from the usage of her magic.

"No." He stares. " It had to work! It can't be..."

"It didn't work... they're..."

Henry's face lightens.

Snow hauls herself out. She stares at them looking a little confused at first, and as if remembering where she was, her face hardens, lips tilting down; her eyes are empty, tear-marks staining her pale cheeks.

"Mary-Margaret!" Henry runs straight to her, "Where's my mom? Where's Emma?"

She mumbles something in distraught, "Emma," Snow moans, "Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma. My daughter. My only child."

Seeing her gruesome state, Henry knows, knows that his mother-god he doesn't even want to think, so he hugs her.

And she sobs.

Regina, tall and composed, steps forward. A brief flicker, all it takes, and her face darkens. She flicks her wrist.

The princess slouches growing limp in the boy's arms.

"What did you do?" Henry snaps.

" I've calmed her down. She'll remain unconscious for several hours or so," she sighs, looping Snow's arm around her neck.

"Emma... " he whispers tearfully, "It's true isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Regina finishes with a slight hint of annoyance, "Until we get to the bottom of this, there isn't much I can do, Henry. Let's go find Rumplestiltskin."

. . .

Emma spent days studying books.

Milah regularly popped in with provided resources.

The Captain resumed his duties on board: He spent hours at the helm, alone; he avoided human interaction. Even when forced to speak, he snarled at everything. No one-not even Milah, questioned their Captain's dark mood.

Food stocks maximized, whether rain or sunshine it mattered not, weather conditions prevailed constantly harsh. Sailors often died; due sickness, bad water, rat poisoning, mold.

After what happened with Fiesel, she briefly disengaged from her duties.

Killian himself retired earlier; he hadn't held the salty meat or the beans in long enough when his stomach emptied out the contents. After a placed duel on a hot late afternoon, he collapsed.

Milah was in hysteria.

Flip.

Flip.

Flip. "... Aztec gold."

Flip. "Syncamids, Sirens, Sea Witches, blue rocks... the hell?"

The door opened, and intrigued Milah's arrival. "How's the research?"

Emma, snuggled on the floor, skimmed over a sentence. "Fine but... " She stopped: Her lips pursed. She closed 'Magnolia's secrets'.

"You aren't getting what you need." Milah finished.

She sat up. "It's resourceful ..."

"I see a great disturbance in your heart." The brunette dropped a selected stack.

"That's an understatement. " Emma bitterly chuckled.

"None of that was yer fault. Everything will be fine. " The woman patted her arm.

Peering into the woman's eyes, Emma's pulse quickened. For the first time since this whole damn journey started, she saw uncertainty, without doubt, undesirable fear.

"Is it?" she said. " I'm the Savior. I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I was sent through a magic tree to break some curse cast by the Evil Queen. I didn't know shit until my son showed up on my 28th birthday. Get that? A son I gave up in jail 10 years ago- I wanted the better for him, in regards to growing up as a orphan myself. And suddenly I have parents, a family, who I didn't know about for 28 years! Things were good, really good-until Mr. Gold brought magic back... shit went down from there and god I just want my son back."

"My condolences. I understand."

Emma studied her.

"I too lost a son, once. Every since, I have deeply regretted abandoning him." She mumbled.

"Bae?"

Milah looked curious: Her eyes narrowed. "How would you know that?"

Shit.

"Just a educated guess. Bae popped into my head, for some, particular... reason."

Well that was half- true.

"Right, well. I need a favor." She said.

Emma sighed, relieved. "What's up?" She stood.

"Killian's ill. I need you there... see to his demands." She toyed with strands of hair; hence, her avoidance of eye contact.

"Of course."

"Thank you." She nodded.

"Why don't you get some rest?" Emma asked. She noticed her wan appearance.

"Thanks lass," Milah said. "Alas, I cannot. Some one needs to handle the helm. Come then."

. . .

After Milah's long, exquisite clarification, Emma went her way.

She paused outside his cabin, waited, and knocked. Her gut clenched with unease once she entered.

The temperature dropped a few degrees in Celsius; it had grown chillier. A lone candle ignited the room in soft light.

She considered his room, the wardrobe, the shelves with books, and the small neatly made bed propped up against the wall. Charts were spread out across the table, mapping out lands and navigations used by the Captain. She placed the tray upon the table and looked over the charts. Her eyes flicked at the elegant writing scribbled at the edge, 'Nous avons trouvé la clé'.

"See something you like?"

She whirled around, "Captain, I apologize... I didn't mean to look into such private affairs."

He leaned against the door, arms crossed, watching her. "It matters not. What brings you here?"

Emma squirms under his heated gaze; he'd tucked himself away from the light, the atmosphere around him cold.

"Milah prepared a meal, she wanted to make sure you-"

He raises his brows.

"-didn't die of starvation or something."

The Captain straightens, brushing past the blonde, and goes to his wardrobe. "You can give her my gratitude," He chucks off his coat, vest, and shirt. He faces her, revealing a sun-kissed lean muscled chest, light hair, and faded scars; the number did on him has her imagining his past years more brutal. What lengths did he go through to enforce his position as Captain? How much blood did he shed in order to do so? " How are you with a sword?"

Emma startles, staggering back. Spiteful to admit, he was easy on the eyes. Turn that man loose and he'd be sex on legs; not that he already wasn't.

He caught her admiration; eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. He gave her a shit-eating grin, turning his back on her, "Never seen a man naked before, I take it."

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she turns away; more annoyed with herself than with him for staring. "Not the case, and I'm excellent with a sword." She huffs, crossing her arms.

"Good." The Captain shrugs a clean-linen shirt over his shoulders and sits at his table, pulling out an extra chair, "Come."

She considers his invitation before plopping herself down across from him. He pulls out his flask, pulling the cork out with his teeth, and offers her the bottle, "Rum?" Emma eyes it, but makes no move to take it. "I didn't replace the drink with poison in if that's what you're wondering." He cocks his head. She takes the flask from him and takes a swig before handing it back, crossing her arms. He nurses his rum in silence. Watching him, Emma wonders if conversation is ideal, then speaks, "Why?"

He looks at her nonchalantly raising a brow in question.

"Why did you send for me after that night?"

"I believed you a spy for the King's Court. Alas, I've never seen you around these parts before, until." The Captain falters, his dark eyes rest on her's.

"Until what?" She prompts.

"You should go."

Before Emma can protest, Smee comes barging in.

Both rise, startled by his arrival.

"Have you forgotten your place Mr. Smee? Intruding on private affairs is very bad form," The Captain throws him a scornful look.

He halts, wide eyes darting to Emma then him, "S-sorry sir, Gus needs Emma in the galley. I-if that isn't too much trouble."

"Of course," She gives the man a brief smile, looking back at Killian, "May I be excused, Captain? Or shall I indulge you with the boring affairs of my world?"

He dismisses her with a curt nod, calling Smee over for a tete-a-tete.

…

"Rumplestiltskin!" Regina barged into the imp's pawn shop with her son and a now-present-and-now- conscious Mary-Margaret in tow.

"It appears I've only been throwing my money away when I decided to buy that closed sign." The man in question said, standing behind the counter, "Ah, Mrs. Blanchard, what a welcoming surprise. It appears you've made it through the well, after all."

Despite Henry's obligation to prevent his grandmother from going after the man, he didn't; she was handling it surprisingly well for a woman who had lost her child.

"Cora?" He asked.

"Is the reason we're here." Regina finished, fixing him a hard stare, "she's searching for passage back into Storybrooke, but on the downside, our reason for being here also has to do with Ms. Swan."

Mr. Gold wondered, "Oh? And what of our lovely sheriff?"

"She didn't return. My mother has her."

"Then as seeing as that I'm over here—and not over there," he looked at Mary-Margaret, "I'm afraid I can't help you, so I suggest you do best and wake your precious little prince, and leave my shop, dearies."

Henry, tugging him back in desperation to see reason, cried, "We have to do something! We can't just leave my mom there with the villain!"

He considered the boy, almost pitying him, "I'm sorry Henry, I really am. Unless you have a supply of magic beans or portals, which I doubt, hidden in that coat of your's, I'm afraid the possibilities of returning are limited."

"Rumplestil-" Regina started, irritated.

"-If what you are saying is true, and that your mother seeks passage back into town, then you will have your answers soon."

Mary-Margaret, who was silently observing the conversation, spoke up quietly, "find a way."

"I'm af-"

"-FIND A WAY!"

They all startled into silence.

After much consideration, he finally nodded, "Very well. I shall do what I can. Just don't expect anything big from me, Mrs. Blanchard." He left the shop without another word.

"Where's David?"

Regina faced the woman.

Henry answered, "Back here. Follow me."

Regina moved forward when Snow unconsciously grabbed her arm, "Regina—wait." The woman startled, then scowling, looked over her shoulder, "What is it?"

Snow's like, "There's something you need to know. Cora doesn't have my daughter. She made it so that Emma wouldn't get back to Storybrooke."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

She angrily dashed her tears away, not meeting her eyes, "I remembered."

She rubbed her temples; bound for a headache, "Where is she now?"

"I don't know," she said, following Henry.

It is in times like these that she wishes for another curse; sadly, curses were no longer in the cards for her. Regina spews a string of curses, leaving the imp's pawnshop.

…

Emma scrambles into the galley behind Gus. A line of overheated cabinets filled with old silverware and dish platter, a kitchen stove standing in the corner, and a few sacks of wheat stocked beneath a wooden table.

"What must I do?"

The man starts preparing the ingredients for tonight's stew, pointing his wooden spoon at a bin of vegetables on the table, "Clean the carrots."

She busies herself with the task, cleaning and chopping the carrots in comfortable silence. She sees the crew's cook serve their meals at supper, but doesn't get the chance to talk to him; he disappears before supper. "So how does a guy like you end up in a place like this?"

Shoulders stiff, he cuts the potatoes in a warranted silence.

When she's that she won't get an answer out of him, she tries a different approach, "Nice weather we're having."

He moves tensely, tossing vegetables and ingredients into the pot, in his rush to finish the preparations.

Definitely not a people-person.

He frowns at the carrots, finally acknowledging her existence. "What did you do to the carrots?"

Her eyes drift from the carrots to him. "What's wrong with them?"

"They're no good," He tosses them away scowling. "Why in the gods did they send a child into the kitchen? Just go. I don't need any assistance."

There she went screwing up again. She storms out of the galley grumbling a 'Good day, Gus.'

...

He felt the tension build in his shoulders and willed himself to relax. But he could not. The dream was still vivid and very much alive in his mind. He dared not to close his eyes, for if he did the dark eyes would return, reminding him, reminding him of him. And even if the old git was good as dead now, even if the reminder kept himself at ease with his crew, his old wounds still lingered; taunting him of his . He urged. Don't let them see you like this. Just then the fuming blonde stomped onto the decks, making her way toward the railing in all her glory, her golden braided hair swinging behind her. And as if his troubles had shifted, he felt himself easing into the helm. She was a fiery lass, this Emma Swan, but had he entirely minded? He'd read her like an open book. Much like him she had the same look in her eyes, the look most got when they were abandoned; much like him she grew up as an orphan. He was drawn to the blonde from the moment his eyes met hers' in the tavern that night; the way they stared into his soul, so beautiful, so lost. But they were quickly dismissed by a presence of another lass. The blonde was soon forgotten.

He flinched from his thoughts feeling a warm presence beside him. Turning his blue eyes from the horizon, he found Milah standing there with a small smile on her face. "Hello, love." He murmured. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She bit her lip, peeking up at him through her thick lashes, "I've finished my duties and I figured you could use a little company." He smiled, bending only once to press a kiss against her lips, and tucked her into his side.

He'd been a bloody fool to keep his mind occupied with another woman.

...

"You can come out, dearie, there's no one here but us." Mr. Gold said, not bothering to turn around to see who it was.

Regina stepped out of the shadows, "We've got a problem. Snow told me Ms. Swan was sent through a portal, a time portal."

The pawnbroker didn't look phased, "And?" He drawled.

"My mother's coming."


	6. Chapter 6: Part I

Suffocating. She was suffocating. It was hot. Too hot. No room to breathe, no air, no nothing. Voices. Voices all around her. Barely audible for her ears, their speech low and sluggish. And then faces. Warm faces, cold faces, familiar faces, sad faces. They were the faces of her dead beloved friends and lovers. They circled around her, their lips moving, but no words forming. Their dead and cold eyes sought her out, staring, staring straight into her soul. 'Come,' they hissed. 'Come with us, Emma.' Emma stood rooted to her spot, afraid to move, afraid get to close. 'Come. Join us.' They moaned, lingering in the shadows. The shadows parted and revealed her son, his back faced her. "Henry?"

The small form with slumped shoulders twisted around upon hearing his name, the mop of brown hair falling over his dark eyes, looking frightened. "Mom?"

She stiffened, her breath catching.

"Mom!" His face was pale, covered in blood.

Emma woke up in cold sweat. She couldn't breathe. The air was thick, too thick. It was a dream. It was all a dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare. Or was it a nightmare? She pondered that thought while sitting in the dark and listening to her own heart pound frantically against her chest until it fell into a steady beat, but still, she couldn't breathe.

Snores drifted through the crew's quarters.

Needing space, Emma untangled herself from the hammocks and quickly rose, leaving the room for some fresh air. The seas were calm in the night, gentle waves lapped against the wood. It was warm. Her eyes swept across the dark and empty decks, then hugged herself tightly, stepping forward, coming to rest against the railing. The world was silent, held on the verge of a breath. The bright moon peeked out from behind a dark cloud, glowing across the water and casting long flickering shadows along the waves.

"One would think you've decided to go for a swim." A deep voice said.

Emma barely spared him a glance let alone acknowledged his presence; hoping her silence would be enough to send him away, to leave her in peace. But it didn't. Leather crinkling, she felt him settle against the railing in silence, his body warm beside her's. And that was when she turned her head, barely, but enough to get a glimpse of him. Besides his bruised lip, his coat and red vest were traded for a black tunic, a few buttons undone, his hair was a mess, a mop of black hair falling over his eyes, the hair one usually had after—oh. _Oh. _Provided that she could not read his facial expression, she could tell he was tired by the crease in his shoulders and the lack of pride in his stance.

"What brings you out at this late hour, Swan?"

"Couldn't sleep. " She admitted softly.

"Tell me of your boy."

And so Emma spiraled off the story of her son, her Henry; her voice soft and affectionate. As soon as she started the tale, she ended it.

They stood in silence, listening to the hymn of the sea. A small, haunting, feminime voice started, and lulled them into a song.

It had a deep impact on her, making her want to feel things she wished not to feel in a while; sorrow, sorrow for her son, sorrow for the family she never had growing up as an orphan. As she tried to bury those feelings deep within herself, tried to resist them, the voice cried louder. Her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes turning on Killian, "What is that?"

He smiled sadly. "That would be Oana, Goddess of the Sea." The Captain went on, "She's mourning her loss."

Her eyes dipped to the prime location from where the sound traveled. "What happened?" Emma wondered.

"She fell in love with a mortal and bore him a child. She thought he would be delighted with the news, but he betrayed her in the end; stealing her love and her son. I'd wager she was the same goddess who tried to kill you and gave you that trinket." Killian finished in a cool, collected tone, seeming interested on a dot on the horizon.

She rubbed her thumb over the pendant, feeling the cool stone press into her skin, and shuddered, remembering the soulless blue eyes. What did she want from her? Why did she give her this pendant? What was so special about it? In her earlier dreams, something, or someone, urged her to protect _it. _Protect what? This? Is this what she was meant to protect? Certainly not the compass, for that was long gone. Dared she utter a word in front of the Captain about her strange dreams? No, perhaps not. She could consult Milah tomorrow. Shaking her thoughts away, she considered broaching their earlier topic—before Smee came in, but before her mouth could form any words, he interrupted her with a 'We will arrive in port at dawn. You should try and get some rest', and went up toward the helm.

Not at all surprised by the dramatic change in his demeanor, she bid him a goodnight, and left for the crew's quarters.

Just as soon as her head hit the make-shift pillow, she heard stirring above her, she closed her eyes willing sleep to come.

It was centuries, but it only felt like minutes before she was roused and pushed out the door. The crew was lively, murmuring in excitement as they clambered across the decks, doing their duties. The Captain stood tall, hands folded behind his back, barking orders. They'd reached port.

She'd heard it earlier in the cabin when a few men were scuttling about the room, rousing others.

The Captain sent her and a few other men on an errand run with a list after they docked, expecting them back before the sun set. They returned somewhere before dark, exhausted, most of the important supplies they'd logged back to the ship weighing them down. Pleased with the stock, he was genuine in letting them rest for the evening. Most of the men left for the tavern after his dismissal; excited to spend the night in the company of a bar wench.

Her arms and legs were sore and her muscles burned in protest as she clambered down the plank. The sun had just set behind a cloud on the horizon, dotting the sky in pinks and oranges. She entered the tavern later, much, much later after she sought out a place to clean herself. The owner of the house with the baths, who was a lady with a kind and generous soul, provided her with a spare pair of trousers and a clean white tunic, claiming that her clothes had far too much dirt on them and needed a proper rinse; she probably pitied her. The tavern was small, but filled with different locals, mostly male and mostly pirate. Captain Jones sat with a few other men in a dark corner, rolling dice and sipping on his beer. Milah sat at his side stroking his neck, face flushed, her head thrown back in laughter. She made her way over to small group of familiar faces at the back, ones she'd aqcuainted herself with aboard the Jolly Roger; better aquaintances than enemies. Because having a friend meant having to get close, and she did _not_ do close. Her group consisted of two young deckhands, too young to be deckhands at all. Maybe the reason behind her choosing them as her aquaintances, out of the entire crew, was that they reminded her so much of Henry. She was definitely not sentimental. But even the boys eventually grew tired of the night and retired, wishing her a goodnight. And then it was just her. Emma sat with hunched shoulders, nursing her rum and frowning in thought. She felt the buzz of her drink, a warm heat settling into the pit of her stomach. She blinked drowsily, almost missing the greasy old dirt bag sliding into the seat next to her's reeking of a foul smell.

"Hello poppet. What's a pretty lil' thing like you doin' out by yerself?" He leered, leaning in close that she could smell the alcohol on his breath, tucking a golden curl behind her ear.

Flinching away from him in disgust, she downed the rest of her rum, giving him a less of an appealing smile, "You're going to regret that."

"What? This?" He grinned, his fingers purposely brushing her collarbone, tugging the hem of her shirt. But before he could go any lower, her dagger was pressed against his throat, the blade digging into soft skin. He hissed, recoiling in pain, and scooted out of his chair, fleeing the tavern.

Yep, she was definitely going to call it a night. But a drunken man to her right had a different idea in mind, for as soon as she scooted out of her chair and made to follow the pervert out of the tavern, he tugged her back, stumbling over a few wooden tables, pulling her in the direction towards the center stage, insisting she'd sing them a shanty.

She looked alarmed, her eyes widening and pupils dilating, trying to wring her arm out of his grasp. Out of the many things Emma Swan _could_ do, she certainly could not sing even if her life depended on it. But before she could make a complete idiot out of herself, someone grabbed her elbow, tugging her back into the crowd.

Her savior turned her around.

Gus.

"Thank you," She smiled, her shoulders sagging in relief, and gave his arm a squeeze.

"No need to thank me. Now get some rest." He returned warmly.

Feeling eyes on her, burning into her skull, she spun on her heel.

The Captain was brooding in his dark corner, watching her, his flask half drawn toward his lips.

She shivered. It was warm in the tavern. And yet she shivered. Emma lowered her eyes and hurried out. She was _definitely_ going to call it a night.


End file.
